


Sticky Notes

by LilLayneeLoo



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bottom Clark Kent, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Secret Identity, Smut, Top Bruce Wayne, fluff fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24402217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilLayneeLoo/pseuds/LilLayneeLoo
Summary: Batman starts finding notes left for him on the Watchtower. Meanwhile, Clark and Bruce meet and go on a date.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 24
Kudos: 440





	Sticky Notes

**Author's Note:**

> I tried lol
> 
> I hope you like it.

Batman found the first note after a particularly difficult mission. There had been too many close calls; several members of the league had been injured, fortunately none of them critically. Everyone returned to the watchtower in a foul mood. Ultimately, the battle had been won, but they were tired, sore, and impatient with one another.

After their injuries had been tended to, Batman had suggested they save the debriefing until everyone had had the chance to shower and rest. There were no protests. Everyone gratefully accepted the opportunity for some time on their own, especially Batman.

He winced as he walked. He had been one of the injured but had neglected to mention it. He could feel the piercing sting of a relatively deep laceration just above his ankle. He had been in no mood to let anyone tend to him; he was perfectly capable of stitching his own wounds. 

Besides, it wasn’t serious enough to cause a scene, especially considering the depth of the cuts that peppered Flash and Lantern’s skin.

He made his way up the hall and to his own private quarters, stopping just short of the door to examine a small square stuck to it. It was pale gray and yellow chevron with a black border, and had a small note written on it:

_**Batman, I saw your limp. I hope this helps. Take care of yourself.** _

There was a small arrow drawn on the bottom of the sticky note. Batman looked down and saw a small package in front of the door.

He furrowed his brow in confusion, then stooped to pick up the box. He pressed his finger against the sensor and the door opened.

He sighed as soon as it was closed, walking straight to the bedroom and throwing the package on the bed. He kicked off his boots, detached his cape, and pulled the cowl over his head, laying the pieces of his suit on the chair in the corner of the room. He unstrapped the kevlar armour and removed it as well, returning it to its usual place in the wardrobe. The rest of the suit followed, leaving him in only his boxers.

He walked into his ensuite and soaked a dark towel in lukewarm water. He grabbed a few supplies in case he needed to stitch himself up and returned to the bedroom. 

He winced as he sat down and drew his injured leg up onto the mattress. He tucked a towel under his leg, hoping that it would absorb the blood and protect the sheets. The less evidence there was of his injury, the better.

Although, someone already knew he was hurt. He glanced at the box beside him, and resolved to open it. 

Inside there were several sterile gauze bandages, a bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, and a small tube of concentrated lidocaine cream. Whoever left the box had, indeed, been very helpful.

He sighed as he pressed the warm towel to his wound, gently dabbing around the edges of the cut. He knew as soon as the majority of the excess blood had been absorbed that he would need to stitch it. He grabbed the lidocaine and  _ carefully _ applied it topically, ensuring that he did not get any inside the actual cut. He prepared a sterile needle with medical grade thread and began suturing. 

The whole process took around twenty minutes, and though the lidocaine did not fully numb the area, it made it significantly less painful. Batman was not usually one to express gratitude, but he silently thanked whoever had left him the package. He popped two of the painkillers and wrapped his freshly closed wounds with the sterile gauze, considering how he might breach the subject of the package at the debriefing.

He decided that questioning the league would probably be useless anyway. He was intimidating, but his colleagues had developed an immunity against his tactics. It was  _ irritating _ . 

No, this was something he could figure out on his own. The Watchtower had extensive security capabilities. All it would take was a little tinkering and he could change the focus of a few cameras to the door to his chambers.

Despite his exhaustion, he set to work as soon as the debriefing was over.

\---------

Wayne Enterprises’ purchase of The Daily Planet had been a business deal  _ years _ in the making. Bruce was relieved the transaction was finally being wrapped up.

It wasn’t that he was  _ dying  _ to get his hands on a newspaper company--not many people even read a paper copy of the news anymore. Bruce, however, had always taken an interest in media outlets, especially ones that occasionally covered events in Gotham and anything to do with the  _ Dark Knight _ . Metropolis’ leading print source for the latest definitely fell into that category, and so he had begun his pursuit of its ownership over two years prior.

He had one more meeting to attend before the deal was officially finalized. Perry White, the paper’s editor-in-chief, had  _ apparently _ been given the option of rejecting Bruce as a potential new boss. He was a good guy, an exceptional leader, and had evidently earned the respect of the company’s owners.

Bruce removed his sunglasses as he stepped off the elevator, hooking them over the top button of his shirt. He looked around as he walked across the office. He had been expecting cubicle upon cubicle, and so was rather surprised to find that the room was simply filled with desks. There were no barriers between them, and Bruce noticed that several of the paper’s employees were up and visiting with other reporters, editors, etc. 

There was one man in particular who caught his attention. He was standing at the desk of a brunette woman. They were chatting, but based on her facial expression, she was less than enthused.

Bruce couldn’t understand why; the man he was looking at was... _ gorgeous _ . 

He was tall and broad, chiseled arms and legs tightly fitted by a navy blue suit. His hair was dark, slightly curly, and combed neatly away from his face. He had thick rimmed glasses that made him look intelligent in an incredibly  _ sexy  _ way, and Bruce was  _ endeared _ to see that the man had opted for a black plaid shirt under his suit, instead of traditionally plain white. He looked incredibly professional, but also seemed to have a sort of  _ rugged _ vibe. 

If Bruce hadn’t known that it was socially inexcusable, he would have stopped in the middle of the room to stare at this man. Instead, he decided he would casually introduce himself after his meeting with Perry, so long as the editor approved of his purchase.

It was an hour long conversation, but Bruce emerged triumphant from Perry’s office. He had asked basic questions, similar to those asked by the owners. Why did he value news? What plans did he have for the paper going forward? What changes would be made? How could they expect that Wayne Enterprises’ ownership would improve the company?

Bruce had come off with an answer for each of Perry’s questions, and the two had actually bonded over a childish rivalry between their favourite college football teams. 

He was in good spirits as he made his way back across the office, but then realized he had meant to speak to the man in the navy blazer.

It would have been obvious if he changed course, so he continued on. He’d be frequenting the Planet a lot more often now that he owned it, and decided that it could wait.

He’d have plenty of opportunity to chat him up.

\-----

Batman let out a literal  _ growl _ when he saw the second note. Partially because he was in a bad mood, partially because he still didn’t know who had left the first one, but mostly because it  _ wasn’t on his door _ , so his stealthy plan was useless; the cameras would not have seen them.

This one was in the gym, on the wall of the shower that Batman was known to use frequently:

_**Batman, what happened today was not your fault. We all have autonomy, and any of us could have stopped it. We didn’t.** _

The paper was the same gray and yellow as before, and the handwriting was identical. He took it down and examined it, thinking back to the incident it was referring to.

Some of them had gotten together for their weekly training session, and were sparring as per usual. Batman had put everyone in pairs, as he always did. Superman and J’onn, Lantern and Hawkgirl, and Flash and Diana. He was unaware, however, that there had been some external conflict between a few of them. Halfway through the exercise, Lantern had aimed an attack at Flash while he was preoccupied with Diana. The force of the blow had sent Flash flying across the room and into the concrete wall. Hawkgirl became angry with Lantern and began attacking him, which eventually led to an accidental slash in Diana’s leg. 

Batman had been furious, yelling at everyone involved including Diana, who had really done nothing wrong. Superman had eventually calmed them down with his reason, and they had decided to end training prematurely. 

He crushed the note in his hand, pressing a fist to the wall in exasperation. 

He  _ hated _ when they lost control. He knew there was something going on between Lantern and Hawkgirl and assumed based on how the fight had gone that Flash had somehow interfered. It was  _ infuriating _ that they were allowing personal relationships to come between them.

He understood attraction, and had been tempted by it before. He was, afterall, only human. He and Diana had had a brief fling, but he had cut it off when he realized that it had the potential to affect their reactions in battle. He had wanted to ban relationships between members of the league, but Superman had helped him see that that would be irrational. 

Batman had wanted to be angry at him for it, but had understood where he was coming from. The league already felt he didn’t trust them; it wouldn’t help if he tried to enforce childish restrictions. Besides, they were all adults...and Batman kind of had a weak spot for Superman.

He didn’t know when it had started, but suddenly he found himself listening more intently to him than he ever listened to anyone else. He cared about Superman’s ideas and contributions, and admired his determination on the battlefield. He was invulnerable, which meant that Batman would  _ very rarely _ find it necessary to protect him, so he decided that it wasn’t necessary to push away his friendship.

_ This though, _ Batman thought, looking at the crumpled ball in his hand.  _ On the off chance that this person is looking for more than friendship... I need to know for sure. _

He finished his shower, resolving that once he found out who was leaving the notes for him, he would confront them and tell them it needed to stop. Though the general premise annoyed him slightly, he also realized that the notes meant that someone  _ really cared _ about him.

Well, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with that idea, so he needed to nip this in the bud.

\-----

Two days after his first visit, Bruce made a point of dropping by the Planet.

“As the new owner, I’d like to take the time to get to know my employees,” he had explained to Perry, who had smiled and gestured for him to make his way around the room.

Bruce didn’t want to make it obvious that he was primarily interested in getting to know one particular employee, so he started on the opposite end of the room to where the mysterious man’s desk was.

He spoke with photographers, editors, company lawyers, research assistants, the market data team, and a few columnists. He made his way around the room until  _ finally _ he reached the brunette woman’s desk. The mysterious man was chatting with her again.

“Good afternoon,” Bruce said, extending a hand. “My name is Bruce Wayne, I’m the CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

The brunette took his hand and smiled.

“The new boss man,” she said. “We saw you had dropped in. Perry’s told us all about you. Lois Lane, investigative journalist.”

The mysterious man also extended his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne,” he said. He looked sideways at Lois who had raised her eyebrows. “Clark Kent, I’m also an investigative journalist.”

“Please, call me Bruce,” he responded, noting Clark’s very firm grip. “I’ve read some of your work. I particularly enjoyed your piece on the Injustice League; I’d be interested to speak with your source.”

Clark shook his head and raised his hands.a

“A magician never reveals his secrets, but thank you for the compliment, Bruce. I’m up for a pulitzer on that one, actually.”

“No surprise,” Bruce smiled. “I hope you win.”

“Me too,” Clark smiled back. Lois frowned and crossed her arms.

“I’ve already won two pulitzers,” she said.

Bruce flicked his gaze to her for a second, then suppressed an eyeroll. 

“Congratulations,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to read your work sometime. I’ve never heard of you, Ms.  _ Lang _ . Nice to meet you, Kent. I’ll be seeing you both around.”

He walked away at that moment, pretending not to hear Lois correct him: “It’s Lane!”

He already knew that anyway.

\-----

It had been funny, that’s why Batman had laughed.

Everyone else had stopped, however, when they noticed that he was. It wasn’t something they ever saw, and it clearly made them  _ uncomfortable _ .

Apparently the day was made for Batman trying new things, because all of their eyes on him and judging him for his laughter made him feel  _ self-conscious _ , something that was never an issue for him. 

He had reduced it to a smile, then seeing the residual shock written all over their faces made him feel bad enough to leave the room.

Later, when he came into the lounge to find something to drink, he found the next note tacked to a bottle of water.

_**Batman, you should let yourself smile and laugh more. It suits you.** _

He had been confused. Based on the reaction of the league, it  _ didn’t  _ suit him; it was disturbing. This time, he tucked the gray and yellow paper into his utility belt. 

Then, bottle in hand, he made his way back to his room. On the door, was another note.

_**I bet you’re incredibly handsome underneath that cowl. Especially that smile.** _

Batman felt himself blush, then ripped the note off and shoved it in his belt as well. He touched the scanner and went inside, stripping himself of the suit again. 

He flopped down on the bed and thought about the notes. 

The first two could have just been considered a kindness, even the third if you didn’t read into it… but the fourth was definitely... _ flirtatious _ . 

Diana, maybe? Batman kind of doubted it, considering that they had their fling a long time ago. 

Hawkgirl? The scuffle during training had been a result of her and  _ Lantern’s _ relationship,so it would make no sense if she was leaving ambiguously flirtatious notes around for  _ Batman _ .

So, obviously it wasn’t Lantern either. That left Flash, Martian Manhunter, and Superman.

J’onn was an unlikely candidate, based solely on his general interactions with everyone in the league. Batman also knew that he missed his wife dearly, and was fairly sure that he would never, understandably, be able to move on from her.

Superman was...well,  _ Superman.  _ They had a good friendship, but that was as deep as it ran. Besides, there were tons of rumors that he was involved with some woman in Metropolis.

So that left Flash as the only logical candidate.

He was fast, so that would enable him to run around behind Batman’s back and put up all the notes on places he was just about to go. It would also be easier for him to avoid the cameras…

_ The cameras. _

Batman had forgotten that he had reconfigured the systems. Quickly, he stood up from the bed and re-donned his costume. He walked up the hall and straight for the monitor room. 

He was just outside it when he stopped, realizing that it was Superman on monitor duty that evening. He thought about asking him to switch, but ultimately volunteering to keep watch the rest of the night was not something Batman was willing to do, and he couldn’t exactly be like “Hey, Superman, I need to look at something so can you just leave for a few?”

That would sound like Batman was viewing  _ private  _ videos, and while in a way they  _ were _ private, he didn’t want any reason for rumors to start.

He slunk away from the monitor room, resolving to ask Lantern to switch with him for the following night.

\-----

Bruce dropped by the planet again the next afternoon. He conveniently had a few legal documents he needed to go over with Perry, and so brought the chief a coffee. It gave him the perfect cover; an excuse to see Kent without being obvious.

After he had spoken with Perry, he glanced over to find that Clark was speaking to Lois again. He rolled his eyes, and began to make his way over to them.

“Kent, do you ever get any work done?” he asked, jokingly.

Clark whipped around, meeting Bruce’s gaze and blushing deeply.

“Oh I was just… I uh…” he stuttered. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne...I mean...Bruce. Sorry.”

Bruce felt bad watching Clark fumble his papers and hurry back to his desk.

“You were shitting him,” she said. “Weren’t you? He was talking to me about a potential lead.”

“Of course I was,” Bruce nodded, looking after him. “Evidently, humor is not my strong suit. Excuse me.”

He made his way to Clark’s desk, grabbing an unoccupied chair and straddling it backwards. He crossed his arms on the back of the chair and rested his chin against them, looking at Clark who now seemed  _ incredibly _ nervous.

“Kent?” he asked, airily. “I was just teasing.”

Clark looked up at him briefly and, seeing the smile on Bruce’s face, relaxed visibly.

“Oh,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“You do good work, Kent,” Bruce said. “Pulitzer worthy, remember?”

Clark smiled lightly, still a hint of insecurity. “Yeah, right.”

Bruce cocked his head and studied Clark’s face. There was something familiar about the concern in his eyes, but he couldn’t for the life of him place why. He felt terribly guilty now, clearly having  _ actually _ worried the man. 

Suddenly he had an idea.

“Look,” Bruce said. “I really didn’t mean to ruin your day. It really was just a joke, Kent. I think you’re one of the best writers this paper has ever seen, and I would like to make it up to you.”

“It’s fine, Mr. Wayne,” Clark said. Then he blushed again. “Bruce.”

“No, I really would. There’s a little restaurant up the road, Bessalo’s? I’ve heard they have really good apple pie.”

Superman had told him that one; his colleague had a taste for southern traditions.

Apparently Clark did as well.

“Oh, I  _ love  _ their apple pie,” he said.

“It’s settled then, Kent,” Bruce said. “Apple pie and a cup of coffee at, we’ll say...eleven-thirty tomorrow?”

“Perfect,” Clark said. “That’s my lunch break.”

Bruce smiled and made to leave, but Clark stood and caught his shoulder.

“And Bruce,” he said, a small smile on his face. “Please, call me Clark.”

Bruce chuckled at Clark’s return of the formality, and nodded. He saluted Lois as he walked by her desk, and smirked when he heard her scramble to go and talk to Clark.

\-----

As expected, Lantern had been happy to trade monitor duty with Batman, excited at the prospect of pushing off his shift a few more days.

When he arrived in the monitor room, he was startled to see that there was a cup of coffee waiting for him, and a grey and yellow  _ note _ attached to it.

He sighed and picked up the cup, peeling off the note and taking a sip. It was black, just the way he liked it, although Batman wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or just a lucky guess.

_**Batman, I don’t know if you knew, but the coffee machine broke this morning. I picked up your fix.** _

Okay, so it was deliberate then.

Batman settled into the chair, watching the monitors that focused on the common areas until he was sure everyone had either left the tower, or were resting in their own quarters.

It took longer than he anticipated, especially considering that partway through his wait, he had to send Superman down to Metropolis to deal with an escaped Livewire. He had come back exhausted, and retreated immediately to his room. Flash was the only one left at that point, running on a treadmill in the gym. 

Batman could barely see him, only visible as an occasional red blur over the moving track. If someone who didn’t know better stumbled upon him, they would think something was drastically wrong with the machine. 

Batman would have just gone ahead with checking the cameras, but he was overly concerned that someone would see him. Given that their personal quarters were situated closely together, he was afraid the other members might feel that the cameras were a breach of privacy, despite their primary focus being  _ his _ door.

After just over three hours, with less than an hour left before Hawkgirl came to take his place, Flash headed back to his quarters and Batman was able to check the feed.

He stared intently at the door of his room until suddenly a grey square appeared. He was worried he had missed it, so he rewinded. He had been right the first time however-- the sticky note sort of  _ just appeared _ .

“That’s what I thought,” Batman muttered. Clearly the note had been placed by someone with superspeed. He sighed. It was going to be an awkward conversation to have, especially given Flash’s history of being awkward around him already. Batman decided to get it over with, and paged Flash over the comlink.

“Flash, could you please come to the monitor room? I need to speak with you a moment.”

Flash came on almost immediately.

“Sure thing, Bats,” he said. “Am I in trouble?”

“Just come.”   
  


Three seconds later and the speedster was standing in the door of the monitor room. Batman took a sip of his coffee.

“Sweet!” he said, smiling. “Did someone fix the coffee machine? I’ve been craving the hell out of an iced mocha.”

“Don’t play dumb, Flash,” Batman said. He hadn’t been sure how to approach the conversation, but wondered if maybe it would be easier for Flash to deal with the let down if he was sort of cold about it. “I know you brought me this, and I know you’ve been leaving those notes.”

One of the lenses raised on Flash’s mask, confused.

“Notes?” he asked. “What notes?”

Batman slapped down the note he had just received, and dug in his belt for the other ones.

“These notes!” He snarled. He saw the lenses widen and bit back a little, realizing how harsh he sounded. “I’ve found them left  _ lying around _ . They’re all addressed to me, and they’re inappropriate.”

“What?” Flash said. Before Batman could stop him, he lunged forward and grabbed the notes, reading them at superspeed as well. “No, they’re not. They’re nice. I thought inappropriate meant “I want me some of that bat-dick,” not “you have a beautiful smile!”

“Give me those!” Batman growled, snatching them back from him. “I saw you! On the cameras.”

Flash widened his eyes and half smirked.

“I don’t know what you saw, but it wasn’t me. I have not been leaving you flirtatious notes.”

Batman grumbled to himself, then pressed play on the feed. Flash stared at it.

“I know my name is the _ Flash,”  _ he said, looking innocently at Batman. “But I’m not the only one on this tower that can move that fast.”

Batman stared at him until suddenly a flood of realization washed over him. He couldn’t help that his mouth fell open a little bit, which made Flash laugh.

“C’mon, Bats,” he said. “Aren’t you the  _ World’s Greatest Detective _ ? You must know already.”

“Know what?” Batman asked, cocking his head and playing dumb. He needed to know for sure. Flash just laughed, but Batman watched as his smile faded. 

“You really don’t know?” he asked, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Uhh…”

“Jesus, Flash, just fucking tell me,” Batman said, exasperated. 

Flash swallowed thickly.

“Superman...he’s like...really in love with you…” he stuttered.

Batman stared at him for a moment.

“No he’s not,” he said, blankly.

Flash rubbed his neck.

“Yeah,” he said. “He totally is. It’s been obvious since day one, but apparently he flat out told Princess.”

Batman shook his head, trying to process this information.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, if you say so.”

“I’m serious, Bats,” Flash said again, crossing his arms. “Slow down that camera feed and you’ll see it. He’s not as fast as me, but he holds his own.”

Batman turned back to the computer screens. 

After a few minutes, when he realized Flash was still there, he dismissed him: “You can go now, Flash.”

He had slow-motion footage to review.

\-----

Bruce and Clark had a  _ wonderful _ coffee date, despite the fact that Bruce’s thoughts were frequently drifting to Superman.

Clark had seemed nervous at first, but after a few pleasantries, Bruce had asked him about his current story and the man had launched into a very active discussion. 

It was ironic, considering that Clark’s investigation involved  _ Batman _ . Clark, surprisingly, seemed to be very  _ in favour  _ of the work that Batman did, and spoke about him like he really knew the guy.

Bruce had to bite back a response a few times, wanting to know where exactly Clark had gotten some of his information about the league. It was almost  _ too _ accurate, but still peppered with some mistakes. Like for instance, Clark said: “apparently he’s so intimidating he scared off a shark once just by glaring at him.”

Bruce had burst out laughing at that one. He could deliver a steely look, but maybe not that intensely. Apparently the infamous “batglare” was discussed beyond the walls of the Watchtower. Flash would have been delighted to hear that, having coined the phrase.

After two slices of apple pie  _ each _ , Bruce looked at his watch and realized that he had better return Clark to the Daily Planet. He didn’t want to say goodbye though; talking to Clark had been natural, easy, and relaxing, as if the two had known each other for  _ years _ . 

Bruce found his mind drifting to Superman again as he walked Clark up the street. He felt guilty about it; he had had such a wonderful time with Clark and hated that some of his attention was being taken up by another man, but he couldn’t push the notes and Flash’s words out of his mind.

“Bruce?” Clark asked, bringing Bruce’s attention back to the present. “I said, do you want to come up with me? Or are you going to leave from here?”

Bruce felt guilty, so he decided to walk Clark up to the office. He took him all the way to his desk, and dropped into a chair. He wanted to ask Clark out again.

“So, Clark,” Bruce said, smiling. “I had a really good time today. I was hoping maybe, if you’re interested, we could do this again sometime.”

Clark blushed furiously and bowed his head. Bruce felt something catch in his throat and, despite the billionaire playboy attitude he had become so used to hiding behind, was afraid that he had misread the morning.

“I…” Clark said, shyly. “I’m not…well...I’d love that.”

Bruce smiled with relief.

“Do you have a notepad or something? Write down your number and I’ll call you tonight.”

Clark nodded, and opened a drawer in his desk. He rummaged for a second, then pulled out a small pad of notes. They were grey and yellow chevron with a black border.

Bruce’s breath hitched, recognizing the notes; the same pattern he had found left for Batman all around the Watchtower. He thought back to their conversation during lunch, and the obvious expanse of knowledge Clark seemed to have about Batman. He waited patiently while Clark wrote down his number, examining his date’s face. 

The blue eyes, the soft black curls…

_ Holy fuck _ , Bruce thought.  _ Oh my god. _

Clark Kent was  _ Superman _ . He had just been on a date with  _ Superman _ , and was being given  _ Superman’s _ phone number…

It explained a lot though: his initial attraction to Clark (he had always been attracted to Superman, though he never would have admitted it), the ease of their conversation  _ as if they had known each other for years _ (because they had)...

Bruce looked around the room, his eyes falling on Lois.  _ She’s the girl people think Superman is with… _

“Here you go, Bruce,” Clark said, holding out the paper. Bruce stared down at it. The other notes hadn’t contained numbers, so he couldn’t match them… but Clark had written down his address.

**_344 Clinton Street, Apartment 3B_ **

Bruce had to stop himself from gawking at the handwriting; it matched perfectly with the other notes. He felt breathless.

“Bruce, are you okay?” Clark asked, his eyes filled with concern.

_ That concern _ , Bruce thought.  _ I recognized that look, too.  _

His voice cracked when he spoke.

“Can we…” he cleared his throat. “Can we talk somewhere private for a second?”

Clark’s eyes widened and he looked thoroughly confused. “Sure? Is a conference room okay?”

“Do they have locks?” Bruce asked. Then, realizing what that implied he said: “Sorry, I just...don’t want to be interrupted.”

Clark gave him a skeptical look and Bruce blushed, realizing that the second try wasn’t much better.

“They have locks. Follow me.”

They walked in awkward silence until they reached an empty room. Clark stood back and let Bruce go in, then followed him and locked the door. Bruce dropped the blinds, and Clark sat on the edge of the table.

“Is everything-”

“You’re Superman,” Bruce said, crossing his arms. He watched in slight amusement as a look of panic crossed Clark’s face, which was very quickly replaced with false confusion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, gripping the edge of the table. Bruce shook his head.

“Yes you do,” Bruce replied, digging into his wallet and pulling out the note about the coffee. He had hastily put it there when Hawkgirl had arrived for monitor duty and found him watching Superman sticking a note on his door in slow motion. 

He threw the note on the table next to Clark, then set the one with his phone number down next to it.

“Where did you…” Clark said, shocked. “Bruce?”

“I know you’re Superman,” he said, then he dropped the register in his voice and continued: “Because  _ I’m Batman _ .”

Clark stared at him in awe and a little bit of horror. Bruce wanted to drop his gaze, but didn’t. He held onto Clark’s blue eyes and watched as they cycled through several emotions.

Then, before Bruce could say anything else, Clark had dropped down from the table and stepped toward him, grabbing a handful of his shirt, flipping them around and pushing Bruce down onto the table.

Clark hovered over his face for a second, and Bruce could tell he was trying to get a read on his emotions. He felt temporarily exposed, so he ended the scrutiny by reaching up and removing Clark’s glasses, then forcefully pressing their lips together. 

Clark melted immediately into the kiss, his grip loosening on Bruce’s shirt and travelling instead to his sides, rubbing down his ribs towards his hips. 

Bruce shuddered at the touch, surprisingly soft for the man of steel. Clark’s tongue found his own, and they continued to explore the kiss hungrily. Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark’s back and pulled him closer, feeling Superman’s tight muscles under his shirt.

Instinctively, Bruce’s hips bucked upward, seeking contact. Clark pushed down into him, grinding with Bruce until an erratic and desperate moan escaped his lips. 

“I’ve wanted this...for so long,” Clark breathed into Bruce’s neck, letting his hands wander lower and hooking his fingers around Bruce’s belt. “I’ve wanted  _ you _ for  _ so _ long.”

Bruce pulled him back into the kiss, simply moaning in response. The truth was, Bruce had evidently wanted this as well, but hadn’t been willing to accept it. Now that everything was happening so quickly, he couldn’t stop drinking in  _ all of Clark _ , and he was drunk with the pleasure of it all.

They were both fully erect, rubbing together like hormonal teenagers. Bruce shivered as Clark unbuckled Bruce’s belt and unzipped his pants; the cold air hitting his underwear, already damp with precome.

Clark pressed kisses and gentle bites down Bruce’s body until he reached the elastic band. He gripped it with his teeth, pulled, and released, the snap of the band sending a light and sexy shock through Bruce’s body. 

In one swift motion, Clark freed Bruce’s cock and wrapped his mouth around it. Bruce bit back a loud moan as Clark sucked, inelegantly pushing down on Clark’s head and bucking upward again. He didn’t care how debauched he looked; Clark’s hot mouth felt so  _ fucking  _ good.

All too soon, Clark was pulling off of him. He was panting, his chin wet with saliva. 

“I want...will you…” he stuttered, before sighing and rapidly unbuttoning his own pants. “I want to sit on your cock. I want you inside me...please.”

Bruce smirked and looked up at Clark. His cheeks were flushed, Superman’s signature curl now hanging down over his forehead. He pulled his shirt off and laid back down, looking up at  Clark.

“I’d love that…” Bruce said, reaching for his hand. Clark kicked his pants off the rest of the way and pulled his own shirt over his head. He was gloriously nude, now, and Bruce couldn’t help but stop and take in the view.

Clark put a knee up on the table, moving slowly to straddle Bruce’s hips. Bruce’s cock was still slick with Clark’s saliva, so he wasted no time in lining himself up and sinking down  _ all the way _ .

Bruce couldn’t suppress his moan this time, and he found himself unconcerned. The only thing he could think about was Clark’s hot, wet tightness around him, distracted by the beauty of the figure above him rocking gently on his cock with his head back and mouth open slightly.

“So gorgeous,” Bruce moaned, gripping Clark’s other hand in his and pushing slightly, encouraging the rocking. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Mmmmm,” Clark responded, his cheeks growing impossibly pinker. Bruce could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his chest, Clark’s every movement sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine. 

He hated that after only a few minutes, he could already feel the warmth of his rapidly approaching orgasm. He wanted to watch Clark ride him for hours.

“You’re so fucking hot, Clark,” he moaned. “I’m not gonna last…”

“Me too,” Clark moaned. “So big, I’m gonna come just from your cock inside me.”

“Fuck, Clark,” Bruce said, his hips rolling forcefully up into him. “Fucking jesus, I’m gonna...”

Squeezing Clark’s hands, Bruce’s whole body tensed as he came in hot spurts. Clark continued to rock, keening with his head thrown back in pleasure.

“Bruce…”

Without any assistance from Bruce other than the cock in his ass, Clark came all over his chest, moaning and shaking with the force of his orgasm. When he was completely spent, he collapsed forward on Bruce’s chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of his neck.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Bruce running a hand through Clark’s hair and rubbing gentle circles on his back. 

“We just had sex,” Clark said. “On a table, at the Daily Planet. I’m naked… in a conference room at the Daily Planet.”

“We did, and you are,” Bruce smirked, still playing with Clark’s curls. “Don’t worry, it’s not like you can lose your job. I own the company now.”

Clark snorted. “Yeah, that’s true.”

They stayed silent for a few more minutes until Clark pulled away and stood. He pulled his clothes back on and tossed Bruce his shirt.

“So what now?” Clark asked, replacing his glasses and trying to fix his hair.

“Well,” Bruce said. “I did say I would call you tonight.”

“So we’re still…”

“Normally,” Bruce said. “I like to woo my partner before we jump into the sex, despite what the media says. Even though we’ve skipped ahead, which I’m not at all complaining about, I would still like the opportunity to court you, Mr. Kent. I’m old fashioned that way.”

Clark smiled. 

“Don’t call, Bruce,” he said. “Just show. Pick me up at eight. We both have the night off.”

“Ooh,” Bruce chuckled. “That’s very straightforward of you, considering that you were just begging for my cock in your ass…”

Clark blushed.

“Oh, shush,” he said. “Now, I actually should get back to work,  _ Batman _ . Pulitzer’s don’t win themselves.”

“That is true,” Bruce said. “Can I at least get one more kiss before you go?”

Clark grinned and obliged. Then he opened the blinds and unlocked and opened the door. He straightened his glasses and started to leave.

“Superman?” Bruce asked, cheekily. He grabbed one of the notes. “Thanks for these. I know you only left me a few, but I liked them.”

“Good,” Clark said. “I wasn’t sure if you would, but I wanted to admit my feelings for you. I had no idea it would lead to this though…”

He snuck back in and pressed one more kiss to Bruce’s lips.

“If I did, I would’ve started writing sticky notes  _ a long time ago _ .”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always greatly appreciated. Thanks for stopping by!


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